Enough(38)

“Hmm.” I raked him with my gaze. “How can you do this so slow? I want you now.”

He kissed my belly button. “Patience.”

With the lightest touch, he brushed his fingers down my stomach, and I bucked up my hips when his finger grazed my clit.

“Dare. When will you fuck me?”

He stood at the end of the bed and he stripped for me. The Harley shirt climbed his torso revealing abs, pecs, and it was gone. He winked before he kicked off his boots. He turned so his gorgeous back and ass faced me, Levis sliding over his defined ass and down his legs. Strong thighs met calves decorated with tattoos. Live free or die held dominion on his left calf.

He stalked to me with a hungry expression. “Now, Red. I’m gonna fuck you slow right now.” He moved onto the bed and knelt at my feet, then pulled me down toward him, lifting my legs up his torso.

True to his word, he made me scream his name more than once as I came for him. Yet he held control until the very end and we came together on my last orgasm. Panting, I couldn’t move, all my muscles had turned to goo. Eyelids heavy, I wanted to sleep, but it was the middle of the day, so I fought to stay awake.

He moved to the foot of the bed and dressed.

How much did he hide from me? What did he do in the club? The questions were never far from the front of my mind, no matter how I tried to banish them.

I sat on the bed’s edge and shoved my feet into my jeans legs and hopped up and down to haul them up.

“Cute dance,” his low voice teased.

“You coming by tonight?” When the words were out, I wished I could take them back. Definitely not a fuck-buddy question. At least I hadn’t asked what he liked for dinner. So far I’d kept from asking what his favorite foods were. I wanted to show my love—Not love, I chastised myself—by fixing what he liked best. Strange that even after the losers, I yearned to take care of others. Why hadn’t I learned my lesson?

While I beat myself up, he closed the distance. “What the hell’s going through your brain?” Humor tinged his words.

“What?”

“Everything you think plays across here.” He tapped my chin.

“Just thinking I’m bad at this fuck-buddy stuff.” I shrugged.

He laughed and I had to look up from my inspection of the floor.

“What?” I asked again.

“Red, you’re funny. You’re my girl for however long it works for us.”

I gaped at him. His girl? When had I shifted positions, and why hadn’t he asked me if I wanted to be his girl?

Who am I kidding? He had me wrapped around his pinkie.

Lila, you never learn.

“Am I good at that?” I hadn’t meant to ask that question either.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Perfect. Too damn good for me.” His words held a tinge of regret.

My heart missed a beat, and I wished I could pepper him with questions about exactly what he meant. He moved toward the door, antsy now.

I wasn’t the only one a little freaked out by this thing between us.

* * *

I followed just a few minutes after Dare. Once I was back at the front counter, I realized he hadn’t answered my question about tonight. A heavy sigh didn’t get rid of the unease churning inside. It was getting complicated, and I loved every minute of it. I was destined to repeat my mistakes, or this time wasn’t a mistake.

Picking up the ringing phone, I said, “Marked Man.”

“It’s MJ. Can we chat about tomorrow?” Her words rushed into my ear.

I bet she talked in her sleep, filled with energy like hers. “Yeah, what can I do to help out?”

She chuckled in my ear. “I knew I liked you, girl. You like desserts or salads?”

“Desserts.” And I did. Baking was a luxury for me, one I rarely indulged in living alone.

“Music to my ears, girl. What can you bake up tonight? We got a hundred or so coming.”

Holy shit. I thought about what I had, and the biggest obstacle was baking dishes. If I did cakes and cobblers, then I could buy the tins at the store. MJ and I discussed logistics, and Dare’s favorites—apple pie and cheesecake. She ordered me to go with Zayn and have him pay for everything.

The clock read two thirty—no problem getting the desserts done, and a few dozen cookies. Cookies were always the right answer. I spent the next thirty minutes straightening up and finishing a bit of paperwork so I’d be ahead. A couple hours on Sunday, and I’d be done with the week’s tally.

“Ready to jet, Lila.” Zayn dangled car keys in his hand.

Shit. I’d planned to get him when I was ready. “Give me twenty to make a list of supplies.”

He grinned and nodded.

“Come upstairs with me,” I called over my shoulder as I opened the back door of the shop and headed up to my place.